


Ce n'est pas moi

by Path



Category: Wakfu
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evangelyne knows he is not Pinpin. But, she thinks, he is close enough.</p><p>Major spoilers for the Season 2 episode "Rubilaxia".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ce n'est pas moi

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah nobody's going to read this

Evangelyne knows, of course she knows, that he is not Tristepin. His eyes are empty and wide, and black tattoos scar his body. The voice that emerges mangles Tristepin's voice into someone else's. But his hair curls into the same hurricane Pinpin could never control (and never bothered to try to). Beneath the unfamiliar black marks, his skin is burnt into the deep tan Pinpin returned with, that she never had a chance to ask him about. He wears Tristepin's clothes.

So after grief-wracked months of aching for the chance to see him again, this is good enough. She curls against him, straddling his slim hips, her mouth against his neck and trailing down to his shoulder. It's much easier to ignore the growl, like stone grating stone, that emerges from him now, than she could have imagined. It is too good just to touch him again.

Besides, it's not like Rubilax was not there constantly anyhow. Rather than being a jarring reminder, it's almost a comfort, to hear his voice rumbling beneath. How many times had she spoken to Pinpin without Rubilax there adding his own commentary? The two of them are inseparable. If she is making love to Pinpin's body, and not his entire being, well, there are worse beings she could have inhabiting it.

And it's not like Tristepin isn't still here.

She can hear him, constantly. She'd grown used to it over the long travel to Rubilaxia, or rather, his voice and his innocent questions and claims began less to make her weep and more to drive her forward, to offer another small comfort in the lesser world without him. He could not speak often, and now she knows why, but those moments where she would glance frantically over her shoulder, certain he would be there, for his voice was so clear, still gave her something.

This is different, naturally, because unlike on the voyage, Pinpin is indeed in the room. And Evangelyne is thrilled, her entire body singing, over that. But to be fair, it is very difficult to fall into the arms of a sword. And she will take what she can get.

Especially since it would seem Rubilax and his Guardian share a deeper bond than she had known. At first, when she slipped into Tristepin's arms, Pinpin-the-sword reacted with shock. "Eva!" he cried, his voice all surprise. "No, it's not me! I'm the sword!" as if Rubilax had not spent the last five minutes gloating about it. Just like Pinpin, she thought wryly, to believe everyone forgot as quickly as he did.

But Pinpin had restrained him. He'd stopped his own body from harming her. So there must be a link. She just wanted to be sure. And, she admits, a flush seeping up through her freckles, she spent the last few months dreaming and weeping over the idea of falling into Tristepin's arms when next they met. This might not be exactly the situation she'd dreamt of, but it's close enough.

And so during a few moments of innocent confusion and admonition from Pinpin's sword-embodied voice, Evangelyne soldiered on and slipped her hand into his hair and pulled him to her. Rubilax, to his credit, seemed as surprised and groundless as poor Pinpin. There was a moment of adorable flailing, during which Evangelyne had to try very hard not to laugh at the two of them stuttering, and then she caught his black-scarred lips in hers and the two protesting voices cut off simultaneously until she came up for air a long time later, her chest thrumming inside with the sheer joy of kissing Pinpin, something she hadn't done anywhere near enough and thought she'd never have the chance to do again.

"But," growled Rubilax, with a careful tone of complete bafflement, "I told you. I own this body now." He takes a half-step away from her, enough to half-strike a pose of power. "I am Rubilax!" He barely declares it before his shoulders raise and his face takes on a sad and desperate expression. His hand, Pinpin's hand, thrusts up to the sword hanging over the throne. "That is Tristepin, 'Shu Shu Guardian'," and a bit of his mocking arrogance seeps back into his voice before it trails into confused defeat, "not me."

Tristepin backs him up. "Eva! It's true!" he cries, and his voice rings like a clarion through the throne room. Evangelyne wonders, for a moment, if it will be worth it, beset on both sides by idiots.

"Yes, I know," she manages diplomatically, and then a little rough spot creeps into her voice and she lowers it shyly. "But Pinpin, I've been waiting so long." This time, when she insinuates herself against Rubilax, pressing up into Tristepin's chest and pulling his face down to meet his lips again, Rubilax hesitates, and begins to respond.

It is very different from kissing Tristepin, not that she has had nearly enough experience with that yet. But even the scant handful of times have enough memory woven around them for her to know that this is utterly unlike him. After all, it is still Rubilax there, his heart and his mind and his desires controlling, and Rubilax is not the silly sweet knight she fell in love with but something else entirely.

When his lips meet hers, when he finally decides that she must be crazy and he will just bear through it, they seize hers decisively, and his hands clasp her shoulders like he will possess her too. Pinpin barely touched her, besides occasionally sweeping her up into his arms, but that is no fault of his. He was gone only minutes after they reunited, and she had been so stupid and taken so long before to make up her mind, time she knows now she could have spent at his side.

She needs to make up for lost time.

She kisses him until they fall apart, panting and breathless, and his arms cage her in so she cannot go further. She runs her hands down the tanned chest, and wonders again how he came to be so, pale Tristepin with his ginger hair who never tanned a day in his life. His thin chest presses into her hands, heaving, but it is Rubilax who is panting and shivering at the touch of her fingers. Pinpin, above, has gone silent after a few last cajoling queries, and she prays he'll forgive her on this one, because he was _dead_ , and she never thought she'd get the chance for this.

She pushes Rubilax back into the throne, and suspects he must be permitting this, because he would never suffer himself to be ruled by another, even momentarily. Then she gets a knee on either side of him and slides forward into his lap, and she's beginning to suspect that Rubilax has never been in a body before, or at least not one capable of feeling pleasure, because the low snarls of his voice slowly change from growls into panting, and that twists occasionally into a low rough moan.

Above, Pinpin's voice comes hesitantly. "E-Eva?" he asks, and there is something insistent there, so she stops rocking her hips against Rubilax's for a second and looks up to his grey eye in the pommel. It is not quite meeting hers. "I..." he says, and then, "please don't stop that, Eva," and then she can tell, instantly and without thought, that he can feel what his body does, what Rubilax does, and any faint doubts she had remaining vanish like mist in the sun.

She throws herself into him, crushing her body against his, a wave against rock, and Rubilax wraps his arms around her and kisses at her shoulder, pausing. Yes, she likes it, her eyes assure him. He must be very lost in this human body. She finds it funny, coming from Rubilax the Shu Shu, Rubilax the demanding, Rubilax the bringer of carnage. But nonetheless, his fingers fumble at the tie at her neck and his growl of mixed frustration and desire make her smile between kisses.

Finally he has loose laces in his fingers, and Evangelyne slips her shirt over her head. There is a shallow gasp from Tristepin that she finds infinitely flattering and sweet, his utter unfamiliarity with women and his confidence that she must be the most beautiful one in the World of Twelve. Rubilax slides shaking hands over her breasts, and though his eyes are blank and white he looks entranced. He uses his teeth a little much when he bends his head to her chest, but it's a good sort of pain, and she finds herself rocking her hips into him.

She could stay here forever, but there's more, there's infinitely more she played in her head and thought she'd never have the chance for, and she wants it all. Evangelyne slips off him, Rubilax grumbling until she kneels and runs her hands up his thighs, and the two of them gasp simultaneously. When she reaches his member, she thinks it might simply rip through Tristepin's threadbare pants, it's so hard and straining. She reaches for the ties.

The sounds the two of them make when she pulls his shaft out, Shu Shu tattoos embracing even it, and drags her tongue up the underside, are truly exceptional; Rubilax's voice scarred like his body and hollow like a drum, and Tristepin's weightless and high, twisting into each other in matching reactions. Rubilax tips his head back and lets the throne support him as she slides him into her mouth. Pinpin's grey eye squeezes shut for long minutes as she works his body and listens to his breathing. It is barely audible, suspended as he is ten feet in the air, and concealed by Rubilax's stone-crumbling tones, but she can hear it. Evangelyne has heard Tristepin from across the world. Nothing will hide his voice from her now.

Finally, with Rubilax straining against her, she climbs back up onto the throne. His hands hold her, slide her remaining clothes over her hips, pull her towards him. He's gathering confidence, she thinks, spurred on by the image of her kneeling before him, dedicated to his pleasure. They all know she is there for Pinpin, but each one of them is living vicariously, in a way, and there's a sort of unspoken agreement not to mention it. Perhaps she is not worshipping Rubilax, and perhaps Pinpin is not in control of his own body, and maybe it's not really him touching her now. But they can go on, and pretend, and get more than they might have.

Rubilax positions himself, working with unfamiliar limbs and sensations, and slides into her. All three gasp.

"E-Eva," breathes Tristepin, from above, grey eye rolled up in the sword pommel.

"Pinpin," smiles Evangelyne, closing her eyes and burying her face in Rubilax's scarred shoulder.

"Come here, little Cra," growls Rubilax, and crushes her mouth with his.

Then all three are silent again, except for varied speeds of breathing and murmured assurances. Evangelyne throws her arms around Rubilax's shoulders and listens to Pinpin's pleading whimpers, and feels his body rocking into her and making her delirious and light-headed in joy and sensation.

Rubilax speeds up, rapid slaps deep into her, and her breathing is catching as she tightens around him squeezing his shaft until his snarled moan turns into a short "Oh, oh, oh, oh-" and the demon in Tristepin's body throws his head back into the throne and cracks it as he finishes. Above, Pinpin lets out a high cry in the echo of his body, and Evangelyne seizes it with her mind and thinks, "I did that to him," and cries out to match as Rubilax's hips slow against hers.

A long time passes before any of them move. Evangelyne and Pinpin's body slump against each other, sweat slowly cooling, and the sword above does not open its eye.

Evangelyne draws herself a little back, placing a hand to Pinpin's black-scarred face, for if it is Rubilax who moves it, it is still Tristepin who feels it. "Thank you," she says, and she's not sure who she says it for.

"Oh ho ho," mutters Rubilax, his usual deafening tone suppressed. "I think your little Cra likes me, Pinpin."

They burst into their usual flurried argument to shout over each other, then, and Evangelyne is actually a little surprised, in the end, how little has really changed.


End file.
